


Into the Fire

by sinistercinnamon



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: & Iroh is too busy dealing with the Gaang to call dibs, (it is my solemn mission to massively boost the number of fics in that tag), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fire Nation Politics (Avatar), Firelord Zuko (Avatar), Hakoda is like 'is anyone else gonna adopt this Firelord?', Hakoda negotiating a peace treaty while mentally filling out adoption papers, Long-Haired Zuko (Avatar), Parental Hakoda (Avatar), Politics, Post-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Prisoner Zuko (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Gets a Hug, Zuko (Avatar) Needs Therapy, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, the Fire Nation loves Zuko, the Gaang kinda sucks at politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinistercinnamon/pseuds/sinistercinnamon
Summary: When Azula met her brother in Ba Sing Se & told him he could come home, he believed her, even though she had made this exact offer before. This time there was no loose-lipped Captain to give the game away, & he was brought back to the Fire Nation not as a hero, but in chains.When he is dragged from his cell months later, he expects to be facing his execution, not his coronation.
Relationships: Fire Nation Citizen(s) & Zuko (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Ty Lee & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 244
Kudos: 1100
Collections: A:tla





	1. A Decision is Made

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second WIP I've posted in the last 24 hours & I've got another I'm working on that'll go up later today. This is a plan that will surely end in disaster, but I'm gonna do it anyway. Update schedule will be: Whichever fic I'm feeling at the time.
> 
> In case you didn't clock the tag, Zuko has long hair in this, because I like long-haired Zuko & I just checked & it turns out I am the author & can therefore do whatever the fuck I want in this fic, so there. ;P
> 
> The Gaang comes off looking pretty bad in this at first. This isn't a reflection of my own feelings. It's just that they don't understand politics & are confused that 'walking into the nation you just defeated & telling them what to do' isn't going down well. Also they never got their bonding time with Zuko, & don't realise he was in prison the whole time, so just assume he was lazing around the palace living his best life.

The palace was still reeling and trying to process the fallout of a Waterbender walking right into the palace and defeating Princess Azula in a fight right before her coronation, when the letter came in, attached to a hawk bearing a black ribbon.

The letter was addressed to the Firelord. Which was a problem, as there _wasn’t_ one. The Hawkmaster didn't know where to take it, and neither did anyone else in the palace mews.

After much debate (internal and external) the Hawkmaster took the time-honoured path in times of confusion and stress when a new problem crops up: have it be someone else's problem. He handed the scroll off to the fastest runner on his staff and told her to take it to the throne room and find someone important to hand it to - the Firelord, if they had one, or failing that someone from Firelor- Phoenix King Ozai's advisory council, or a Fire Sage, or literally anybody who was paid enough to deal with this. If nobody was in the throne room, go around to any important places in the palace and repeat the search for important people until a suitable important person is found.

⁂

Everyone present had lost count of how long the 'discussion' had gone on for, only that it had begun sometime the previous night and dawn had now broken. The throne was currently vacant. The three (3) possible candidates were (in order of general proximity to where the discussion was taking place):

  1. Princess Azula. Pro: Daughter of the previous Firelord and his declared successor. Con: Was stark raving mad and currently heavily sedated and restrained for both her and everybody else's safety.
  2. Prince Zuko. Pro: Eldest child of the previous Firelord and normally de facto heir. Con: Had been banished, then exiled, and therefore thrown in the cells the moment he'd been brought back to the Fire Nation by his sister.
  3. General-Prince Iroh. Pro: Brother of the previous Firelord and a respected war hero. Con: Had apparently let himself go quite a bit since his glory days, and last anyone had heard of him he'd been teaching the Avatar Firebending. He’d also been passed over for the crown once already.



All had perfectly good claims to the throne, and all had reasons for being considered completely unsuitable.

Nobody wanted to make a decision, or even declare a preference too firmly, only to have the Phoenix King return home in triumph and be displeased. But conversely, nobody wanted to delay a decision until after he'd come back, because _not_ making one made them look weak.

Except the Waterbender, who had a clear preference for General-Prince Iroh and had told them so loudly and angrily. She had an equally strong opinion on Prince Zuko, and by Agni was it ever negative. This had the opposite effect to what she'd intended, causing everyone to privately reject the General as a candidate out of sheer resentment at this outsider telling them what to do, and prefer Zuko. Though as nobody dared actually _say_ that out loud, this didn't have much effect on the course of things.

Then a girl wearing the uniform of a palace messenger ran in, out of breath. She took one look around at them, then thrust a scroll into the hand of the Head Fire Sage, panted, "Just came in! Marked urgent!" and ran out again as if Koh himself were on her heels.

When they saw that the letter was addressed to the Firelord, they understood her haste.

Looking uncharacteristically nervous, the Head Fire Sage broke the seal and unrolled the letter. Then he paled.

"The Phoenix King has been defeated by the Avatar." They all pointedly ignored the _"I told you he would be!"_ from the Waterbender, and he continued, "General Yuzo is awaiting orders."

There was silence broken only by splashing sounds as the Waterbender accentuated her triumphant punching of the air with water from her flask. Everyone was thinking the same thing: If the Avatar has won, then his next stop will probably be here. Which meant there needed to be somebody in charge, on the throne to deal with whatever demands he had.

Of course, it was highly likely that the Avatar would wish his Firebending instructor to ascend to the throne, but having a ruler who was essentially a puppet of the Avatar didn’t sit right with him. And judging by the expressions of the people around him (Waterbender excepted), it didn’t sit right with anybody else either.

The Head Fire Sage made the decision, because somebody had to, pointing at various people as he assigned the necessary tasks. "Right, the coronation will be at noon. You there, take some guards and retrieve Prince Zuko."

The Waterbender screeched as the man scurried to follow the sage's commands. Again, everyone pointedly ignored her.

"You, go to the palace tailors and get them to find some Firelord robes that'll fit him well enough to do for now, and you, go find some attendants to clean him up and make him presentable - the ones banished by the Princess probably haven't even left yet. And you lot, spread the word, gather a crowd. Nobles, peasants, everyone. Anyone willing to show up. We don't have time for an invite list or crowd placements." He clapped his hands together. "Go. Go!"

The Waterbender – who probably had a name, but hadn't even bothered to introduce herself as far as anyone remembered – was spluttering indignantly.

⁂

Zuko jerked awake as the door to his cell was wrenched open. Then almost immediately screwed his eyes shut at the brightness. He'd become so used to the darkness of his cell, which caught only the very edges of torches positioned in the corridor, and the guards never usually needed much lighting to toss a bowl of food on the ground once a day or so (it was hard to keep track of the passage of time down here in the depths of the palace dungeons, so far from Agni's light that his inner fire was all but snuffed out, and he was so hungry it might be once a week) along with a few kicks and punches, or remove and empty the waste bucket (which happened nowhere near as often but also involved assault).

Mai had come by when she could, whenever Azula was too busy to notice her gone, and when sympathetic guards were stationed together on the same shift, and when she could time her visit to avoid patrols. It was rare for all those conditions to be in her favour, but even occasional visits served as a reminder that he hadn't been forgotten. Because secrecy was necessary, she did not bring torches either.

(His father had come by once. Only once. That had been enough.)

Perhaps this was it – his execution. He'd been expecting it for... However long he'd been in here.

He allowed himself a little more self-pity, as futile as it was, it was pretty much all he had left. Why had he gone with Azula in Ba Sing Se? She'd made almost the exact proposition before, and only the stupidity of her ship's Captain had warned Zuko in time (Uncle had told him not to listen there too). Yet he'd still fallen for it.

He'd been allowed a precious few weeks in blissful ignorance on the ship, reacquainting himself with Mai, listening as Ty Lee regaled him with tales of circus life, until they'd arrived back home, and instead of the welcome he'd been expecting, he'd been chained and dragged off the ship and straight to a cell.

He should have listened to Uncle. (He should have listened to himself – _Azula_ _always lies._ )

The guards were saying things, but he didn't pay attention. It was so hard to concentrate when he was so starved he was almost beyond hunger, when his inner fire was gone.

And what was the point anyway? _Never give up without a fight_. Well, he’d fought and fought and fought and look where it had gotten him.

Then they were grabbing him, with someone unlatching the chain attached to his ankle that kept him from approaching the bars, and dragging him from the cell.

He had a small, mad thought that it felt more like they were supporting him than dragging him, but he quashed it. The only human touch he'd experienced while imprisoned was their kicks and punches, and occasionally holding Mai's hand (which both of them had had to strain their arms to manage), so of course someone propping him up felt alien.

It wasn’t as if they were making much effort to be gentle – they were in such a hurry and there was no way he could keep up in the state he was in, so there was definitely some dragging.

And then they were out of the dungeons and into the palace and there was sunlight – beautiful sunlight! – streaming through the windows. He felt his inner fire awaken and he wanted to cry with joy. Then he did cry. It was faint – oh so faint – but it was there.

For all the good it'd do him.

At least he got to see the sun one last time.

The palace had been his home for thirteen years and he'd explored it thoroughly, so even as confused and disoriented as he was, he was aware that they were taking him to the wing housing the royal family's rooms.

Was he being taken to an audience with his father where his fate would be revealed? Perhaps some show of a trial? But surely that would take place in the throne room? Or his father's office? Or one of the many plazas in and around the palace if they planned on making it a spectacle?

He was so caught up in this speculation that he lost track of where they were going and was surprised to find himself being dragged through the doors of his own bedroom. (Or at least, the room he had once slept in, more than three years ago.)

There were people in there. None were his father though. Servants.

They all dropped to the floor in deep kowtows. Not the usual respectful bow due to a prince (if Zuko could even be considered that anymore) but the full demonstration of devotion due to the Firelord.

Looking around the room, hoping for some sort of clue as to what was going on, he caught a glimpse of some familiar robes...

On a mannequin. And they are too small to belong to his father.

Firelord robes. On a mannequin. In his rooms. In his size.

It was all too much.

He fainted.


	2. Preparations & Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible warning for maybe-disordered eating here? (Zuko gets proper food for the first time in a long time, while he's already stressed, & his stomach doesn't take it well.)

He came round lying on his bed. A healer was holding smelling salts under his nose while explaining to a Fire Sage that he was severely malnourished and in shock. (No shit.)

He tried to ask what was going on, but his question came out as a hoarse croak. One of the attendants rushed forward with a glass of water as he struggled to sit up. She and the healer helped him, and he drank, gratefully.

He'd forgotten water could be clear and free from contaminants, and came in quantities of more than a mouthful or two at a time. The room was full of gold ornamentation, but right now the most precious thing was a jug sitting on a table that held _more water_.

He tried again. "What- My father?"

That was actually less intelligible than his first attempt, but the Fire Sage got the point. He sighed, and opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. Then he picked up a scroll and handed it to him.

Zuko unrolled it, almost expecting it to bite or explode in his face.

It didn't, but it might as well have.

He read it, then he read it again. He looked around the room half expecting that this was some elaborate trick by his sister and she was going to walk into the room laughing mockingly and telling him that his execution was about to happen.

But there was no sign of his sister, and everyone looked horribly serious.

He read the letter again.

"Is he...?"

He couldn't finish his question, but again the Fire Sage knew what he was asking.

"We don't know. The letter only says he has been defeated by the Avatar. If he is alive, it is likely the Earth Kingdom will have taken the opportunity to imprison him." He hesitated, then continued. "What is more, as you will have noted from the letter, he had taken on the mantle of Phoenix King, choosing to let the title of Firelord fall to the Princess Azula."

Zuko opened his mouth but was interrupted by the sound of distant screams of rage. The healer bowed. "I should probably help the other healers there."

Anticipating his next question, the Sage explained. "However the Princess is... ah, unable to take the crown. She has always been…” Another hesitation as the Sage attempted to come up with a diplomatic way of phrasing what amounted to treason, “somewhat intense. But her mental state deteriorated rapidly as Sozin's Comet drew closer."

So he’d missed the arrival of the comet as well?

"Is she okay?" he managed. That scream had sounded... concerning.

The Sage hesitated. "Physically, yes. But she has done considerable damage to part of the palace and we have had to sedate her. It is highly likely she will have to spend time in a specialist institution to recover, or at least to keep people safe."

"My uncle...?"

"General-Prince Iroh escaped capture in Ba Sing Se and his whereabouts are currently unknown, though we are given to understand that he has been teaching the Avatar Firebending. The Avatar's Waterbending master is around here somewhere; she will probably know."

"Katara is here?"

"Oh, so _that's_ her-" He coughed. "Yes, she was the one who subdued Princess Azula. Though right now she is giving everyone a headache."

He wanted to ask if she was okay, if she was angry at him for his choice in Ba Sing Se. (Stupid question – of course she was.)

But the Fire Sage had seemingly decided that he'd explained enough. "As the next in line, the Dragon Throne falls to you. Normally there would be more warning than this, but due to the somewhat precarious situation the Fire Nation finds itself in, we cannot afford a gradual transition. Your coronation will take place at noon." His expression turned sympathetic. Or maybe resigned. “You will, of course, also have to give a speech. I advise keeping it short and vague.”

He bowed and left.

Zuko read the letter again. The General wanted orders. But what orders was Zuko supposed to give?

⁂

He felt marginally better after a bath. It didn't help with the feeling of impending doom, but it was nice to be rid of the filth of his imprisonment.

Even as well-trained as they were, the attendants all made faint sounds of horror at the collection of cuts and bruises and minor burns smattering his rail thin body, and the healer was dragged back, this time armed with a collection of balms and salves and ointments and bandages.

(Zuko remembered Katara's healing ability, but considering he'd helped take down the Avatar right after she'd offered to heal him, and previously thrown fire at her when she'd offered to heal Uncle, that would more likely result in him acquiring more injuries. Besides, he'd had worse.)

He hated sitting here. It was necessary, sure. The state his imprisonment had left him in meant that the primping was about more than just vanity (it was a testament to the training of the servants that they hadn’t fainted from the smell, for a start). And it wasn’t as if he could really do anything until after the coronation.

But he’d been starved of news almost as much as he’d been starved of food. Mai’s visits had been far too brief to share anything much, and she hadn’t been by in a while (as far as he could even estimate the passing of time down there).

(Where was she? he wondered. Probably getting ready, and he would see her at the ceremony.)

As much as he felt assailed by a barrage of information since he’d been freed – He was Firelord! The Avatar was alive! His father had invented a whole new title for himself! His father was (possibly) dead! Azula was broken! Uncle was the Avatar’s Firebending teacher! Sozin’s Comet had passed! The war was basically over but nobody wanted to admit it! _He was Firelord!_ – they were really only dots of information in a sea of mystery.

What was the deal with the Phoenix King thing? Was Father dead? (Was it wrong that he felt relieved at the thought?) How much exactly did Uncle hate him? It might feel as if the war was over because the apparently invincible figure of his father had fallen, but how was the rest of it going? What had he missed?!

He needed information. He needed to consult with people – advisors, Generals, Admirals, councillors, nobles. But he couldn’t leave the team of servants frantically working to make him look like something other than an animated corpse.

Wait. Servants were people!

Okay, that sounded wrong to have that come as a revelation. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that they were actual people. They were obviously people. The cooks who had smiled when he’d snuck into the kitchens as a child and allowed him to ‘help’ in exchange for a treat. The maids who had brought burn salve after his father had disciplined him, even though he wasn’t supposed to seek treatment for the burns and bruises. The guards who had given him tips on sword and knife fighting.

But he wasn’t meant to _talk_ to them like they were people. Father would not have allowed it. Neither would Grandfather.

Well, he was Firelord now. Apparently. He could talk to whoever he liked.

“Um,” he said. “Can someone tell me what I missed, please?”

Hesitant looks were somehow exchanged by people too nervous to actually look at each other.

He sighed. “You have my word that no repercussions will happen as a result of anything you tell me. I swear on my honour.”

He wasn’t actually sure if he had any honour to swear on, but it seemed to work. The woman currently attempting to file the nails on his right hand into something that didn’t resemble claws nervously spoke up.

“Well, there was an invasion…”

He blinked. They’d already taken Ba Sing Se; where else was there that would constitute significant news? Perhaps someone less crazy than Zhao had made another attempt on the Northern Water Tribe? “Where did we invade?”

“Um, no, Your Majesty. My humble apologies that I wasn’t clear. The Fire Nation was invaded. The Avatar attacked the Caldera with a small invasion force on the Day of Black Sun.”

The day of the what now? There’d been an _eclipse_?

“What the fuck?”

The attendants all flinched.

“Uh, that’s not royalty-appropriate language is it?” He hunched in on himself as much as he could without ruining the work being done. “I… kind of… spent a few years on a ship surrounded by sailors? I, uh, may have picked up some… vocabulary.”

Whether it was the previous speaker not receiving censure for her information, or his unorthodox response, or this nervous explanation, but the ice seemed to be broken now, and the servants grew bolder.

He learned that there had been a small invasion on the Day of Black Sun, taking advantage of the lack of Firebending to strike at the Firelord himself. It had failed, with most of the invasion force being arrested. He was relieved to learn that civilians had been evacuated and casualties in the Home Guard and Palace Guard were low.

The woman applying some sort of treatment to his hair quietly told him of worrying about her aunt fighting at the front. Then she told him about the brother she had already lost, assigned to the 41st. Her hand briefly grasped his shoulder, and she whispered, “Thank you.” into his ear, and he didn’t know what to say, because he hadn’t been able to do anything for her brother. He’d failed.

The servant working on his feet explained that her family was struggling because a newly-built factory had polluted the lake their town relied on for both food and tourism.

Another letter came as his hair was being dried and brushed out, this one a report from Ba Sing Se, which was under attack. The fight was mainly led by a group of old men, but the people of the city had taken the opportunity that had been offered and joined in. They were trying to hold the city, the letter proclaimed, and despite what Azula might think, Zuko wasn’t so dense as to miss the implied “…and failing” that the commander had left off the end.

(Was one of the old men his uncle? Had he turned against the Fire Nation? Had he turned against Zuko?)

And if Ba Sing Se fell, that would embolden any resistance movements in the Earth Kingdom.

That letter asked for orders too.

And as before, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to end the war. It _needed_ to end. But how was he supposed to go about halting a conflict that had spanned generations?

⁂

The robes felt huge on him - the tailor had guessed his size more or less accurately, but had failed to account for him not having eaten properly in months. The head tailor and a couple of assistants had made what adjustments they could while he’d been getting prepared, but they could only do so much.

At least they hid how fragile he looked.

He stumbled getting down from the stool he’d been standing on for the adjustments, and someone finally remembered that the healer had said he was malnourished and sent down to the kitchens for some food.

After a diet of lukewarm rice, stew containing things he’d better not speculate on, thin gruel, and the occasional stale bun (as a treat), the food that arrived was a shock. There was _so much of it_ , and so many different things. He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen so much food all in one place – the Wani’s supplies had been limited, he’d certainly not eaten like a king while wandering the Earth Kingdom, and even on the trip home where there’d been two members of the royal family present, the food had all been relatively simple fare that was easy to store and rustle up in batches for a large crew.

Was he expected to eat it all?

He should. He’d starved twice now, and had spent three years having barely enough.

So he ate, even though he didn’t feel hungry (because his stomach had forgotten _how_ to feel hungry). It was all too sweet, too rich, _too much_ , but he kept eating, both Lee the refugee and Zuko the prisoner despairing at the idea of wasting food.

( _‘Eat up, Zuko. There are starving children in the Earth Kingdom, you know,’_ his mother’s voice echoed in his head. _Yes_ , he thought, _I was one of them_.)

He was so nervous. He wished Mai was here. Where was she anyway? It couldn’t be taking her this long to get ready, not when she had probably already been expecting Azula’s coronation and would have had an outfit planned and prepared for that. Perhaps an overzealous guard had told her the Firelord-to-be did not wish to be disturbed and she was expecting to see him on the way? Maybe she was staying close to Azula in the hope that their friendship hadn’t entirely been down to Azula wanting someone to intimidate?

He asked a servant to go and find her, as well as Ty Lee. He wanted some familiar faces around. He wanted Mai to take his hand in hers and tell him he could do this, and for Ty Lee to distract him by telling him about his aura while balancing on her fingertips.

The servant returned without either of them. Because they weren’t here.

Azula had found out that Mai had been visiting him, and that Ty Lee had been helping her.

It had been a struggle to eat, and at this news he lost the ability to force it down. He tried to make it to the bathroom, but he was still unsteady on his feet, and this fresh shock didn’t help.

The servants reacted quicker, at least. Someone held back his hair, someone held him upright, making sure that he was aimed away from his robes, yet another person kept his sleeves out of the way.

When he’d finally emptied his stomach of all the food he’d just eaten, they carried him to the bed, laying him down.

The healer returned to check him over _yet again_ (he hadn’t even been crowned yet and he was already proving to be a weak Firelord), before announcing that the food had been too much for his abused stomach, and they needed to reacclimatise him to proper food more slowly.

A servant was dispatched to the kitchens once again, this time to pick up something plainer, simpler.

Once he’d had a drink of water and felt able to talk, he asked someone to find out what had happened to his friends. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know – it was possible that she had simply banished them as she apparently had many of the servants (and even the Dai Li agents she’d dragged all the way from the Earth Kingdom), but she would surely not take the betrayal of her close friends well at all.

But he needed to know.


	3. A Public Spectacle

Stepping out through the curtain and onto the stage, it felt as if he was going to his execution after all.

At least it was brief. There was a lot of pomp and ceremony, but even for a society as traditionalist and ostentatious as the Fire Nation, there was only so much you could do to dress up ‘the old Firelord is gone, and now here is the new one’.

Especially in this case. Ozai had reigned for six years and the only major achievements of his time on the throne had been the falls of Omashu and Ba Sing Se (and one, if not both, of those were back in Earth Kingdom hands by now). And there was no elaborate sarcophagus to make a show of setting on fire.

The Fire Sage did his best, but there wasn’t much to say. Mostly he leaned on the future, talking about a new era, subtly trying to prepare them for the changes that were certainly incoming, while being vague about what those changes were (because nobody actually knew).

Zuko stood off to one side as he spoke, hoping that his look of queasy terror came off as stoic and respectful, then stepped forward and knelt at the front of the stage when given his cue, to allow the crown to be placed on his head.

The crowd cheered well enough. Seemed to, anyway. It felt muted, but everything seemed to come through from a distance, even the voice of the Head Fire Sage right behind him seeming to come from far away.

The fact that they were cheering was in itself unusual, at least in his limited experience of coronations. The short notice of the coronation meant that instead of the small quiet crowd in ceremonial clothing standing in perfect formation, all presumably hand picked and drilled for the occasion to get their movements and bowing so perfect, it was a large milling crowd of people packed into the plaza, all wearing various outfits. Red still dominated of course, but there were other colours too.

And a variety of quality too, he noticed. Rich silks in expensive cuts, and plain cottons that were probably the best clothes that person owned. People had brought their children too.

He liked it more, he found. Less intimidating than the hooded figures moving in perfect sync.

He managed a smile.

The crowd cheered again. But that was probably a coincidence.

Someone had told him that the battle between Katara and his sister had taken place on the coronation plaza, but the palace staff must have done an excellent job of clearing up the mess, because only a few scorch marks and damaged roofs (plus the low water levels in the ornamental pools) remained as evidence that anything had happened.

He took a deep breath, held it a long moment to steady himself, and began to speak. He’d followed the Head Fire Sage’s advice, keeping it short and vague, and the Sages had looked it over beforehand and given it their assent. It probably wouldn’t go down in Fire Nation history as the greatest speech ever made, but he hoped at least it wouldn’t be a huge embarrassment either.

He did his best to suggest that the war was over, without actually saying it was over, because he had no idea how well that would go over with people, and a riot breaking out at his coronation was not the most auspicious way of kicking off his reign. And also because he wasn’t sure how you went about ending a war, but he doubted it would be a simple task and wasn’t sure if boldly announcing it was the way to go.

It seemed to go over well (there were no boos or jeers), but then he blew it by bowing. Only slightly, a small angling of his upper body, his hands forming a flame. It had been an automatic reaction to his nervousness. He’d just felt so out of place standing here, and was so used to having to demonstrate his subservience at royal events, that he’d done it without thinking.

But the Firelord bowed to no-one.

Such a small slip-up, but it had happened in front of the very people he was supposed to rule.

What would they think of him?

⁂

And then it still wasn’t over, because he had to sit for his portrait. Not the elaborate one meant to go in the official hall of portraits in the palace, no. That would come later, if he managed to not fuck up long enough to set some sort of tone for his reign that could be immortalised in portrait form – allowing an artist to fill the painting with items and details with significant symbolism.

This would just be a simple ink painting, to show the people what their Firelord looked like, meant to be put up on their walls to show deference and patriotism.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t normally done immediately after finishing with the coronation (Father hadn’t had his done for at least a week, from what he remembered). But everyone seemed so worried about leaving even the slightest bit of uncertainty that they wanted to have something to show to people.

He wasn’t sure he wanted this – he didn’t like the idea of his face being on every wall in the Fire Nation, looming over everyone as his father’s and grandfather’s likenesses once had.

(What would people think, having to look at his scar? Would they see it as a mark of all that he’d been through, as he’d eventually come to see it? Or as a sign of his failure?)

But it was expected of a new Firelord. And considering what a disaster everything was right now, skipping out on a minor thing that nobody saw any issue with might cause problems.

Even as simple as it was, it still felt as if it took forever.

He pretended not to have heard the Fire Sage informing the artist to ‘Try to make him look less like a corpse’.

⁂

He intensely regretted his earlier desperation to consult with military advisors. This was the second War Council he’d attended and it was shaping up to be almost as bad as the first.

“The war must continue!”

“But why?” asked Zuko, who genuinely wanted to know. He didn’t _want_ the war to keep going, not after having seen its effects, but the idea of trying to stop something with a century of momentum behind it was downright terrifying, and a tiny cowardly part of him was desperate for any excuse to have a reason to continue. There must be a reason, right? Something he hadn’t been taught? Something he hadn’t seen on his travels? Something that made all the suffering worth it…

But the General just looked like he’d smacked face-first into a wall, gaping like a fish as he tried to come up with something. He babbled excuses that Zuko had read in history books and heard from the mouths of his tutors, but with much less eloquence than either. Fire Nation supremacy, something something Great March of Civilisation, sharing our gifts and prosperity with the world, etcetera.

“So, basically, no reason other than we’ve been doing it too long to stop?”

Another General sputtered indignantly. “But if we stop now, what will be the point?”

“If we keep going, what will be the point?”

“But we’ll win!”

“Are you sure?” He held up the letter from Ba Sing Se’s probably-by-now-ex-governor. “Ba Sing Se was taken barely a few months ago and is already on the verge of being taken back. We apparently lost Omashu during the eclipse to a single Earthbender. My father, at the height of Sozin’s Comet’s power, got his ass handed to him by a twelve-year-old pacifist.”

His phrasing caused some aghast mutterings and indrawn breaths, but after the day he’d had (was _still_ having), he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“In addition to all that, nobody has any idea where King Kuei is.”

He could practically hear the objections that several advisors were gearing up to make, and quickly snapped, “And don’t try to claim they won’t have any overall effect and are just isolated incidents. The people of the Earth Kingdom will fight on if they have even a shred of hope, and these things give them a lot more than a shred.”

One General, braver than the rest, stood and argued. “What do you know? You’re barely of age!”

The man was right. He was less than half the age of everyone else present and had no idea what he was doing. All he could do was what he thought was right and hope for the best.

But this? Was something he knew.

He was pleased to note an Admiral rolling his eyes. At least someone remembered that he hadn’t spent the three years away from the palace lounging on a beach somewhere.

He forced himself not to pinch the bridge of his nose or grit his teeth. He was the Firelord. He must remain calm. No showing weakness or frustration.

“How many of you here have been to all four Air Temples? How many have been to both poles? How many of you have had to pilot a raft through polar waters thick with Fire Nation dead? How many of you have travelled across the Earth Kingdom without an escort of guards keeping a barrier between you and the people you are fighting? How many of you have fought the Avatar?”

Silence.

“I have seen the war. Probably closer than most of you have. Decades of fighting, and it has brought prosperity to a small group of nobles here in the Fire Nation and nobody else. The entire world hates us. Our troops have fought and died for nothing. Continuing just means more get sent to die for nothing.”

He would have continued further, but was interrupted by the arrival of a servant bearing a piece of paper.

Mai and Ty Lee. They had been located – at Boiling Rock.

He was about to command the servant to find someone to go and retrieve them, then thought better of it. He remembered all too well the feeling of being suddenly released, thinking he was going to die, then having to deal with a barrage of information.

He would go himself.

It was only right anyway. They were in there because of him. And it gave him an excuse to be out of here.

He rose to his feet and looked around at the peak of Fire Nation military might, who couldn’t meet a teenager’s gaze. “The war is ending whether we like it or not. We can choose to end it now, while we still have some control over terms we can set, have some ability, some leeway, to make concessions or peace offerings. Or we can fight on until the bitter end and accept whatever we’re given.”

Nobody spoke.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have urgent business elsewhere. This meeting is over.”

He walked out before anybody could object.

⁂

Sokka peered around as Aang looked for a suitable landing spot for Appa, wary of possible fireballs being blasted their way. They had no way of knowing if Katara had been successful without showing up to find out.

Well, they could have sent some other chump in like a canary-bat into a coalmine, but Sokka couldn't think strategically with his sister's life on the line. Why had he let her talk them into letting her do this alone? Okay yes, he'd needed Toph's metalbending, and Iroh had been needed at Ba Sing Se, and obviously Aang had needed to fight the Loser Lord, but still...

"There," said Iroh, pointing to a stableyard housing ostrich-horses.

Momo chittered excitedly as Appa touched gently down next to a large pile of hay, and Sokka turned to see his sister running towards them. He almost collapsed from relief. "Katara! You're okay!"

"Guys, the coronation..." she panted out.

Oh, right, yeah, Sokka remembered. That was the other reason they were here. Iroh was Firelord now, right? Seeing as Loser Lord was currently enjoying less-than-luxurious accommodation courtesy of the Earth Kingdom (at least until they could move him to the Fire Nation so his brother could keep a close eye on him), and Crazy Blue was probably chilling (ha!) in an ice cube right now.

He wanted to say it could wait, but he supposed the sooner Iroh was Firelord, the sooner he could find out what had happened to dad and Suki and all the people who had been relying on him on the Day of Black Sun, now that the war was over.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get this guy his crown already! He’s earned it!"

But his sister shook her head. "No, you don't understand. The coronation already happened. You just missed it."

Aang scrunched his face up in puzzlement. "But who is-? Oh."

Oh no, thought Sokka. Not _him_.

"All hail Firelord Zuko," said Katara, sourly.

⁂

Even more frustrating than finding out that Prince Ponytail (huh, well okay, that nickname needed updating, he guessed – Firelord Ponytail didn’t have the same ring to it) had taken Uncle Iroh’s place, but he wasn’t even _here_.

“So where is he?”

“I have no idea, Aang!” she snapped. Then she winced and sighed. “Sorry for snapping. I’ve just been arguing with people all day and nobody will listen to anything I say. I haven’t even managed to see Zuko yet – unless you count at his coronation, and that was from right at the back of the crowd. Every time I ask, I get told he’s _busy_. Then they finally told me he’d be available after a council meeting, only for him to go off in an airship.”

Probably avoiding her. Maybe he’d even got wind of his Uncle’s imminent return and was too scared to face him. “Ugh, the nerve of the guy. How could he just up and leave?”

Iroh showed no anger, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure my nephew had his reasons.”

“Yeah, reasons being that he knows you’re the one who should be Firelord.”

Iroh fixed him with a severe look. “You should not talk like that.”

They followed him into the palace, only to be stopped by the guards. Who then looked unsure about what to do next, each looking towards the other, then back to Iroh, then back to each other again.

Eventually one of them spoke. “Um, General- That is… I’m not sure if we can let you in or not. You were declared a traitor, and nobody has rescinded that…”

“You’re going to arrest him?” Aang looked upset, and there was a set to his face that suggested he was about to go full Avatar State at the slightest excuse.

“Well,” the other guard said. “When Firelord Zuko himself came home, he… uh…”

“Look, we just don’t know what to do with you,” the first guard admitted with blunt, flat honesty, as Sokka wondered what Zuko’s homecoming had to do with anything – he’d been welcomed back as a hero after helping take out Aang, _obviously_. “Things may have changed, but nobody’s told us, and until we hear otherwise, well...”

Sokka stepped forward to object, but Iroh rested a hand on his arm and gently pushed him back.

“I fully understand. Perhaps someone could escort me to one of the tea rooms? I am happy to be placed under guard there to wait for the Firelord’s return.”

The guards relaxed, but Sokka could only stare in confusion at this being necessary. Katara and Aang were doing the same.

“But… you can’t just let them do this, not when you’re the rightf-” he began.

Toph punched him (much lighter than she normally would have, wary of how unbalanced he was on his broken leg). “Calm down, Snoozles. These guys here ain’t paid enough to deal with the shit they’ll be in if they pick the wrong option between ‘give him free rein of the place’ and ‘throw him in a cell’. This way we can take a load off – especially you – somewhere with refreshments and comfortable furniture.” She shrugged and added, “And it’s not like we can do anything until His Royal Fireyness comes back.”

She wasn’t wrong – they were obviously gonna be waiting around anyway, and it’d be a good idea to have Katara look at his leg – but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's off to Boiling Rock to get Mai & Ty Lee! Hmm... I wonder if there are any other important prisoners he can pick up while he's there...


	4. Prison Break, But Legally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko gets hugs. I repeat: _**Zuko gets hugs!**_ This is not a drill!

Life in Boiling Rock wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Hardly a life of luxury, and she wasn’t allowed her knives, but it beat living in Omashu, or New Ozai, or whatever. Her uncle exempted her and Ty Lee from any punishment details or hard labour, they were never made to wear restraints and the guards didn’t try roughing them up. The servers in the dining hall even did their best to give them the least worst bits of the food.

She could only assume that Azula had delegated her punishment to someone else, because there was no way the Princess would have been sloppy enough to not know the Warden was her uncle. More likely they’d have been placed in the palace dungeons with Zuko – there was plenty of space, as they had fallen out of their proper use after the Capital City Prison had been built and used only occasionally for storage of items that could survive the damp. Probably just far apart enough that they couldn’t talk to each other, but close enough that they could hear the others receiving and reacting to whatever treatment Azula saw fit to visit on them.

Or failing that, placed in the city prison, with instructions for the guards to be as abusive as they wanted.

But no, here she was under the care of a family member who expected her to keep up certain standards of behaviour and not act out, but otherwise didn’t care if she was happy, in a dull environment she wasn’t allowed to leave.

So, basically her normal life.

All that had changed was the quality of her clothes, the comfort of the furnishings, and not being allowed knives.

So yeah, Azula had apparently snapped at some underling to lock her traitorous friends up somewhere horrible and left them to it, and they had naturally chosen Boiling Rock.

But her life being as dull and boring as it was at home still meant it was dull and boring. And it would only get more so the longer she was here.

And she had no idea what was happening with Zuko. Would he be punished for being in contact with her, even though he hadn’t chosen that? If he was executed, or starved in his cell, would anyone tell her? Her uncle probably would, but would anyone bother telling _him_?

Ty Lee seemed to be having a blast though. That girl could make friends anywhere. For some reason she seemed keen to make friends with the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, which was awkward seeing as they were the reason she was here. Understandably, she wanted nothing to do with them, but Ty Lee remained undaunted.

Well, everyone needed a hobby.

Right now she was sitting on her mattress, flicking pieces of gravel at a small mark on the wall, when she heard the sound of booted feet, and tensed, sensing something off.

Footsteps weren’t unusual – the guards made regular patrols, and you’d get some bully or other who wanted to beat up some poor bastard to make themself feel like a big shot. But this was different.

These footsteps were running, but not fast enough to suggest they were en route to some emergency somewhere else in the prison.

They stopped in front of her door, and she heard someone trying to unlock the door. Then a discordant jangling noise echoed through the block as the guard dropped the keyring, and she got to her feet, starting to worry now.

It didn’t necessarily mean anything. A new guard, nervous on their first day and being sent to the cell of their cranky boss’s niece, in a hurry to deliver whatever message they’d been sent with. That was all. It didn’t have to mean anything. Especially with Sozin’s Comet riling up the Firebending prisoners.

But a prison ran on routine, and a change to a routine never meant anything good in a place like this.

And then the door opened and she could see that even with half their faces hidden, the guards looked visibly terrified – not worried, not scared, but _terrified_ – and she cut off the pithy remark she was about to make.

Azula must have decided to check up on them and found their punishment insufficient.

She held out her arms for cuffs – they never bothered cuffing her usually, but if Azula was involved, her uncle’s protection was over.

They made no move to restrain her though, just gesturing for her to step outside. She did. Even without her knives she could have taken them easily, but where was there to go?

They reached her uncle’s office, and there was a quiet but frantic argument about who should knock.

Mai rolled her eyes and sidestepped them to knock on the door herself, trying to ignore how they shrank back. Without waiting for an answer, she slid open the door and stepped inside – if she was screwed anyway, might as well add ‘lack of manners’ to her list of crimes.

She was prepared to face Azula.

But it wasn’t Azula.

It was Zuko.

In full Firelord regalia.

Her usual poise and fake ambivalence forgotten, all she could do was babble inanely.

“Zuko! You’re… Firelord?”

He shuffled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and it was still so Zuko, even under all that, even in the last place she’d expected to see him. She couldn’t help herself.

She threw herself on him and hugged him; he was still so thin. The robes hid it well, but wrapped around him like this she could feel every rib and every knob of his spine. He tensed a little, and she remembered the wounds that had littered his body the last time she’d seen him; he’d probably acquired more by now. Reluctantly, she pulled away, though didn’t let go of him entirely.

“Zuko, how…?”

“It’s been a crazy day. This morning I got dragged out of my cell for what I assumed was an execution but turned out to be a coronation. I asked after you and Ty Lee, and they told me you were here.”

She wanted to ask about Azula; there was no way Zuko would be wearing that crown if his sister had anything to say about it…

But she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, or what she wanted to hear. She’d been less Azula’s friend and more her minion, and had been thrown in prison simply for visiting someone without her approval, but they’d grown up together, and it was hard to imagine a world without her.

Later. She’ll ask later.

She fell back on her usual standby: deflection. “So you decided to share the sudden prison release experience with me? Do I get a fancy ceremony and a crown too?”

He laughed, awkwardly.

“I don’t know, do you want to be Firelady?” His right eye widened as he realised what he’d just said, and he began stammering that it had been a joke, before realising that made him sound rude, and getting even more flustered.

Since she wasn’t Azula, she couldn’t bear to watch him suffer too long, and decided to take pity, laughing and patting him – gently – on the chest. “Ask me again another time, maybe. Preferably somewhere more romantic than my uncle’s office.”

Then she kissed him.

And of course that was when Ty Lee was brought in. She squealed in delight at seeing Zuko.

“Zuko! You’re okay!” He wasn’t okay, not really. His cheeks were hollow and it seemed as if he would have fallen over if he wasn’t leaning on Mai.

“Hey, Ty Lee,” he greeted from over Mai’s shoulder, as she tried to gently manoeuvre him towards a chair without actually shoving him, because there was no way she’d be able to do anything if his legs gave out entirely, and that probably counted as treason now.

Ty Lee dropped the bubbly routine for just a moment. “Is Azula…?”

Luckily she’d made it to the chair, because his legs _did_ give out at that. She sat next to him as he clutched her hand like a lifeline.

“She's alive, but… She’s unravelled completely. I don’t know if it was from feeling isolated after sending you two away, or from the comet, or the pressure of her imminent ascension to Firelord, or all those things, but she just snapped.” He looked down at where his and Mai’s fingers were interlinked. “The healers say she might get better with rest, but it’s too early to say.”

“Have you seen her?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I can’t. It’s not like she’s even awake right now. But I just _can’t_. Not after all the lies. Not after everything.” He looked up, meeting Mai’s gaze. “Does that make me a bad brother?”

Technically, yes. But at the same time, no, not really. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to say that Azula deserved to be left alone, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He wanted to be told that he was awful for reacting in a completely understandable way to being hurt.

Ty Lee answered for her, flinging her arms round him from behind (though she’d been perceptive enough to notice how Zuko was holding himself, and was careful to drape herself over him gently). “No. You need to heal too, Zuko.”

“What about your father?” Mai asked, not sure if changing one sensitive topic to another sensitive topic was a good idea.

He shook his head. “I have no idea. All anyone knows is he was defeated by the Avatar. That’s all.” He sighed and began to rise from the chair. “I should probably get back and deal with that.”

“Oh wait, you’ve got to release our friend Suki too!”

Mai wanted to roll her eyes and point out that the last time Ty Lee had tried to talk to Suki, the other girl had tried to punch her in the face, but she didn’t. The Warden was standing _right there_ in the corner, watching & listening, & he might be her uncle, but he was still the Warden, and Mai was no snitch.

He frowned, probably trying to remember if she was someone they’d met before prison, and if he knew her. He probably had met her.

“She’s the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors,” Mai supplied.

His face fell. “Oh.”

Yeah, he had definitely met her.

Ty Lee skipped over to the desk and bounced up onto it. “Hey, you two know each other!”

He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand not currently holding Mai’s. “Um, I kind of set fire to her village while trying to capture the Avatar.”

“There you go then,” said Ty Lee, beaming. “You can apologise to her!”

If the Fire Nation had ever been able to harness whatever energy source powered Ty Lee’s optimism, the war would have been won within ten years instead of dragging on for a century.

He winced but nodded. “I probably should. I guess I’m going to be doing a lot of apologising to people, for my own actions, and my nation’s.” He sat up suddenly. “Oh! This place takes important war prisoners, doesn’t it?”

He looked at the Warden. “I’ll need a list of all the prisoners here please.”

⁂

Hakoda forced himself not to react when he saw the guards heading straight for him across the yard. They’d only use it as a flimsy pretext for whatever they were planning on doing with him, and he refused to give them the satisfaction of making it easier for them to justify their bullying.

Two of the guards grabbed him, while another cuffed his wrists.

He raised an eyebrow. They usually only bothered cuffing people who were Firebenders or known troublemakers (or both), and Hakoda was neither.

Despite his vow to stay quiet, he was too curious. “What’s happening? Where are you taking me?”

One of the guards turned to look at him, and he swore he saw a flash of pity in the man’s eyes. “The Firelord wants to see you.”

Hakoda went cold, desperately trying not to think of the implications of that, especially given the timing…

They didn’t get any news from outside, except for what new prisoners brought with them, and there’d been no new intake for a few weeks now, but it had been impossible _not_ to notice that Sozin’s Comet had just passed overhead, not when you’re locked in with a bunch of Firebenders.

The last time the comet had been by, Sozin had used its power to wipe out the Air Nomads.

And now Ozai, grandson of Sozin, wanted to see him.

He slumped in their hold, and they had to drag him from there.

He’d recovered slightly by the time they reached the gondola, determined to face whatever awaited him with as much dignity as he could.

There was a girl there, about Sokka’s age, also in a prison uniform, also cuffed and accompanied by a small retinue of guards, also worried but trying not to look it.

She looked him up and down as the gondola moved. “You get a special invitation from the Firelord too?”

He nodded, still not sure if he could trust himself to open his mouth to speak without sobbing.

“Suki,” she said, flapping one of her cuffed hands to indicate that she’d have waved or clasped his arm if she could have. “From Kyoshi Island.”

“Hakoda,” he managed. It came out okay. “Southern Water Tribe.”

Her eyes shone. “You’re from the Southern Water Tribe? Do you know Sokka and Katara?”

“I’m their father.”

“No way!”

He dug through his memories of the stories his children had told him of their travels. “You’re with the Kyoshi Warriors?”

She nodded. “I’m their leader.”

She closed her eyes, swallowing. There was worry on her face now, an expression he recognised. Wondering about the whereabouts of those who looked to you for leadership, and whether they were even alive.

The gondola ride felt as if it took forever, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to last that long, just to delay whatever awaited him, or whether he wanted it all to be over. The guards kept him and Suki at opposite ends of the carriage, so passing the time in conversation wasn’t an option. He wasn’t sure what they’d talk about anyway ( _Exactly how horribly do you think all our loved ones died? How horribly do you think we’ll die?_ ), or whether they’d want to have that conversation in front of the guards, who would no doubt find it a source of amusement.

Actually, now that he thought about it, it was weird how they weren’t taking advantage of this prime bullying opportunity. They were dragging two prisoners off to an unknown but almost certainly horrible fate at the hands of a man their nation practically worshipped. They should be revelling in this.

It was entirely possible that the Warden had picked out more conscientious and well-behaved guards for this task, not wanting some moronic brute to screw up in front of whatever guards the Firelord had sent to escort them. But still, you’d think there’d be some sneers at least, maybe some back and forth as they loudly speculated about what would happen to these prisoners.

In fact, they actually seemed… scared?

As they stepped off the gondola, one of the men marching him along was actually shaking a little.

And then an airship came into view as they reached the top of the ridge, far too elaborate to be for a simple prisoner transfer.

The Firelord had come to Boiling Rock in person, and that couldn’t be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I was gonna include Hakoda & Zuko meeting in this chapter, but then I decided to let Hakoda suffer for a little while longer. I should apologise for that probably but... Nope. ;P
> 
> \- Characters being allowed to acknowledge & process the trauma that Azula put them through??? What heresy is this????? (Yes, I am salty about how many fics throw other characters' recovery under the bus for the sake of an Azula redemption arc.)


	5. Casually Suggesting Treason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Videogames don't cause violence but they do cause me to get way behind on writing & updates. Oops.
> 
> To those who've been looking forward to dadkoda... I'm sorry. How about an interlude with the Gaang proposing a coup instead?

Iroh sat quietly, savouring the delicious tea he’d been brought, as he watched Katara working on Sokka’s leg, muttering under her breath about how he should have rested more, and shouldn’t have been putting any weight on it _Tui and La what do you even have crutches for_.

Sokka, about to leap to his feet the moment the water was back in his sister’s waterskin, was immediately pushed back down again.

“No. You still need to be on those crutches for at least a week. I healed the damage to the surrounding tissue and fused the bone back together, but it still needs to knit properly.”

Her brother groaned but didn’t argue.

Iroh reheated the cup he’d poured for her as soon as he’d detected she was almost done with her work and handed it to her. She accepted it gratefully.

He wasn’t sure what to think about his nephew’s ascension to the throne. He had always planned for his nephew to succeed Ozai, trusting in the good heart that he knew Zuko had, however hard he’d tried to bury it. But after Zuko’s choice to side with his sister, he’d worried that Zuko had lost his way.

He’d still allowed himself to hope, but… what had become of that good heart after getting the triumphant homecoming he’d dreamed of and spending a few months in his father’s care (for want of a better word) and his sister’s company?

And this had been extremely sudden, even considering the rather unprecedented circumstances.

From what Katara had told them as she healed her brother’s leg, the Fire Sages had already been preparing for the coronation of Azula, so it wasn’t as if the crowning of a new Firelord had come completely out of nowhere. But still. They hadn’t even waited to confirm whether or not Ozai was dead.

Had his nephew demanded a quick transition before Iroh could make it back? Katara had said it was the Head Fire Sage who had made the call to crown Zuko, but perhaps there’d been particular factors he’d based his decision on, such as the wishes of the Fire Prince.

He didn’t want to imagine that of Zuko, but he’d been so sure in Ba Sing Se that the boy he’d thought of as a son was ready to embrace his destiny.

And he’d been wrong.

He sighed.

Sokka must have interpreted that as impatience, taking that as his cue to vent the frustration that had been building as he’d been forced to sit still for a long period (it wasn’t that he couldn’t do that, as he was a good enough hunter, but he struggled with remaining still without the prospect of meat at the end).

“Ugh, I can’t believe Firelord Jerkbender is treating us like this!” He flailed dramatically, though obedient to Katara’s instructions, avoided jostling his leg. “Constantly chasing Aang everywhere, but as soon as we actually want to see him, he’s suddenly too good for us.”

Iroh winced. There was a servant stationed in the corner of the room, ready to receive orders for more tea, or snacks, and the guards outside the door had to have heard that too. The boy had the keen instincts of a warrior and an excellent sense of strategy, but politics was not a field of battle that was familiar to him.

“It wouldn’t be like this if Iroh was Firelord,” Katara agreed. “I tried to tell them that but they just ignored everything I said and chose Zuko instead, went to drag him out of whatever corner he was cowering in.”

(Iroh had wondered at Zuko’s absence from the battle. Had Ozai commanded his children stay separated in an effort to ensure at least one survived? Or had Zuko abandoned his sister to her fate? No, he should not speculate until he had more information.)

“I was really looking forward to my Firebending Sifu being Firelord,” Aang admitted, looking disappointed.

This needed to be dealt with, he realised. He hastily signalled to the servant to bring them another pot of tea. The man bowed, too well-trained to give away whether he had any opinion of his own, collected the tea pot, and left.

Just in time too, because then Sokka, looking thoughtful, said, “Well, why _can’t_ Iroh be Firelord?”

Iroh choked on his tea.

And to think he’d thought trying to prevent Zuko’s crew from mutinying was difficult.

⁂

This was the life, thought Toph, as she lounged in the most comfortable chair she’d ever sat in (which was saying something as her parents had always piled extra cushions on everything for her). She might be happy to stomp around in the dirt, but it was nice to enjoy some creature comforts once in a while. (Anybody suggesting that this was a sign she was soft deep down, would find themselves buried deep deep deeeeeep underground.)

They had actually done it. The war was over. Well, okay, it wasn’t actually _over_ over – sitting quietly and listening as her parents and their friends had conversations they assumed went way over her head (because they thought blindness made her stupid) had taught her that much. But the main bit was over.

All they had to do was sit the new Firelord down and get him to officially say it was over and put that in writing. Probably get a bunch of world leaders together (why _had_ they let King Kuei just wander off?) and have them bow and fake-smile at each other in front of a sketch artist.

And guaranteed there’d be a bunch of people who wouldn’t like that, which would inevitably mean they would have to go round knocking sense into the idiots. Well, maybe just her and Aang; Sokka and Katara had a parent who actually gave a shit, so they’d probably go home as soon as they found him. (She refused to admit that she would miss them.)

But for now, she’d take the opportunity to relax.

The others didn’t seem to agree, seeming to take the Firelord’s absence as a personal insult. Which was pretty ridiculous – it’s not like they’d made an appointment.

There was a servant waiting patiently off to one side, ready to obey any requests they might have. He was so still and quiet, the others had apparently forgotten he was there. Sighted people, ugh. What was the point of having a fully working pair of eyes if you weren’t going to _use_ them?

She could feel him tensing in annoyance as Sokka ranted about feeling insulted, which figured – these people were big into their honour, and even if he wasn’t super loyal, and didn’t care whose butt was on the throne, having someone show up and start talking shit about his boss would piss anyone off. Like being invited round to someone’s house and criticising their food and décor choices.

And she knew that many of her parents’ servants had taken a weird kind of pride in the family’s successes, almost like fans at the Earth Rumbles when their favourite fighter won a bout.

But when Katara spoke about how Iroh should have been Firelord and how Zuko had been hiding somewhere, the man tensed so much she was amazed the others couldn’t see it, and his heartrate shot up.

He was _super pissed_.

Huh. Interesting. He was insulted on Zuko’s behalf in particular, not just the Fire Nation’s in general.

That didn’t necessarily mean anything, but servants saw and heard a lot, and they generally had the best idea of what was going on. So Zuko obviously had _something_ going for him.

Then again, maybe this guy had really liked Loser Lord Ozai too and was a shitty judge of character.

She wasn’t sure if Iroh had noticed the servant’s anger, or if he was simply fully aware that he needed to give a crash course in politics before one of them pissed off someone much more powerful than a servant, but his heart practically jumped out of his chest, and he asked for more tea.

And then Sokka went and suggested a coup.

“What the fuck, Sokka!”

Katara swivelled towards her, heartrate spiking, because apparently her swearing was the problem here.

Uncle straightened up and _actually put his teacup down even though it wasn’t empty_. Which was a sign that shit was getting real.

He sighed. “I appreciate that you hold me in such high esteem that you think I would be a worthy Firelord, truly, but you cannot go around expressing that.”

Sokka tensed, moving his upper body in a way that suggested to her that he’d crossed his arms. “Why not? It’s true!”

“Because some people might agree with you.”

“So what?” Twinkletoes sounded utterly baffled. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when only _some_ people might agree,” Uncle explained patiently. “While others will almost certainly disagree most strongly.”

Sugar Queen’s voice was tight with annoyance. “Again, so?”

Toph sighed, wondering how Sokka and Katara could be part of a tribe and not know how a social hierarchy worked. At least Aang had an excuse, from what he’d told them about Air Nomad society.

“Imagine that your father was no longer Chief. You are the obvious successor, but some group from… hmm let’s say from the Earth Kingdom, suddenly shows up and points out how young you are, suggesting Bato instead. Now, he is a highly respected warrior, and a good friend of your father, yes?”

Small movements as the siblings nodded.

“So, he would be a good candidate, yes?” Uncle’s voice was calm and gentle, with no suggestion of snideness or sarcasm.

More nodding, but the movements are shakier. “Well, yes, but-”

“And how would the members of your tribe react?”

Sugar Queen shifted in her seat, her breathing slowing in concentration. “Sokka is the old Chief’s son, but Bato helped dad a lot, so he knows exactly what being Chief involves.” Movement of her upper body as she looked up, probably at Uncle, or maybe at her brother. “Some people would side with Sokka, but a lot of people would choose Bato.”

“But they’d just talk about it and decide, wouldn’t they?” Hoo boy. Being raised by monks had left Twinkletoes completely unprepared for how normal people worked, even after months of bickering over whose turn it was to do chores.

Snoozles barked out a laugh, but then slumped as he remembered the topic under discussion was his hypothetical suitability to be a leader. “No. There’d be an argument. I- I’m sure they wouldn’t fight though. They _wouldn’t_.”

Sugar Queen tried to point out what she saw as a hole in the scenario. “And people would totally care that a bunch of outsiders had come along and interfered!”

Toph managed not to roll her eyes. “You mean like how we’re interfering?”

“Y- No, wait. That’s different!” she snapped.

“How?”

She practically seized up in frustration, trying to come up with a response.

Her brother answered. “But we’re right! We’ve got the Avatar on our side!”

Toph wondered if she could suffocate herself with one of these really soft cushions. “Snoozles, the Fire Nation has spent a century having it hammered into their heads that the Avatar is public enemy number one. I don’t think that’s the winning argument you think it is round here.”

“I’m afraid that Toph is right. Many would be resistant towards Aang simply for how they’ve been taught to view the Avatar.” He sighed. “And all of you are outsiders, and children too.”

“Zuko is literally a year older than me!” She didn’t need sight to know he was pouting. “If I’m a kid, so is he.”

Uncle shifted slightly, perhaps a shrug, or a nod. “True. But he is of age by Fire Nation standards – barely – so that single year matters. And he is a member of the royal family, who the people have watched grow up. They know him; they do not know any of you.”

“But they know you too,” Twinkletoes pointed out, still not getting it.

Neither did Sugar Queen. “And this affects us too! After everything the Fire Nation has done to the rest of the world, why shouldn’t we get a say?”

Her brother hasn’t been listening to Uncle either. “And we’re just pointing out the truth! Me and Bato, we’d both be good Chiefs. But you’re obviously better than Zuko!”

Toph gave into the urge to scream into one of the cushions. (Wow these things were so fluffy.)

“Guys, seriously!” she snapped after she was done. “Do you want a civil war? Because this is how you get civil wars.”

“So the Fire Nation gets to fight itself. They’ve already fought everyone else, so why not?”

“But, Sokka, all those people we met…” Sugar Queen sounded stricken. “There are good people here, who’ll get hurt.”

“But _Zuko_ …”

Uncle held up his arm.

“I am not saying you should be best friends with my nephew, and he may well be as bad a Firelord as you believe him to be – I do not know how these months at home have shaped him. But I am going to give him the chance to demonstrate his abilities before I pass judgement.”

Just then the door opened and the servant walked back in with the tea. Toph frowned. She’d been so focused on the conversation that she hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on outside the room. How long had he been outside? Had he heard anything? His heart was hammering in his chest, and he seemed tense, but it could be from the exertion of dashing to the kitchens and back.

As she’d expected, the next batch of tea was… not so good.

Yep. The servants _really_ liked Zuko.

**Author's Note:**

> HEY GUYS! I finally decided to get a new tumblr, after my old one got nuked. You can find me at [Maiqueen](https://maiqueen.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I am also on Fanexus. Think if Livejournal, Tumblr, & Ao3 got thrown in a blender. I can't share a link to that one because it's in closed beta. If you're also one of the lucky few to gain admittance, then you can find me camped out in the ATLA & Devil May Cry tags. You can find out more about the platform [here](https://twitter.com/fanexus) (there's a link in the pinned thread to join the Discord & be first in line for beta invites). Otherwise I guess you just have to be patient. But as soon as it opens up to more people I'll be able to share it. :D


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